A  weekend is upon us. For some, time off. For some, time to work. For many, a time to remember. For a few, a time to forget.

A weekend of hustle and bustle. Padres games. U.S. Open golf. NASCAR race. Yard work and picnics and phone calls.

Will you take time to think of days gone by? Your heritage? Your background? Your family? Your dad?

Father’s Day has many meanings to many men.

I wonder what it was like for him to grow up in the Depression. Bread lines, riots, despair.

I wonder what it was like to lose his father at the age of 15. Become the man of the house as a mid-teen.

I wonder what it was like to be a minor league pitcher in the 1930s, him wanting to be a St. Louis Cardinal, the disappointment of never getting to the show.

Name it-they’ve got it, and they’re going to get it again.

No one could have predicted this.  A team in a free-fall, gets hot at the end of the year.  A team on the brink of extinction, comes back from a 3-0 deficit to stay alive.  A team, with its backs to the wall, wins 3-straight Game-7’s on the road.

The LA Kings are 3-periods-60 minutes away, from winning the NHL Stanley Cup again, if they take out the New York Rangers at Madison Square Garden tonite.

The Kings, with a “Cowboy” leader of a coach, Darryl Sutter, bounced out of Calgary, who brought passion-respect-and hard work to the room, about to win another Stanley Cup.

You think it’s rough watching this team…you should be there watching that team.

The city of brotherly love, or something like that.  Philadelphia, where the summers are hot and humid, the winters-cold and raw, and the fans and media brutal.

San Diego Padres fans may not be pleased with the product on the field, nor the 87M payroll on a team supposedly flush with TV revenue.  But it’s worse where the Friars play later today, Philadelphia.

It’s pretty bad baseball back there.  Losers of 22-of-32, with an injured old pitching staff, and an older everyday lineup, paid well, but not producing well.